


Absence

by lydiamartin (dwinchester)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2288294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwinchester/pseuds/lydiamartin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a spirit warns Lydia that someone she knows is in danger, it changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Absence

When school ended, the temperature outside climbed above ninety and little kids shrieked and squealed as they ran through sprinklers, Lydia retreated to the lake house again. She craved a quiet summer and a stress-free senior year, full of college acceptance letters and her biggest agonizing decision being what to wear to Prom. Everyone else had their own things to deal with, and she wouldn't bother them now. She had a lot of things she needed to take care of, and she wanted to do it on her own. 

She slipped her shoes off and set them near the door, then hung up her jacket and made her way to the room with the record player. The hole in the wall was still there, since her mother never bothered coming to the place and Lydia hadn't bothered telling her about it. She had only asked that they hold onto the house a while longer. She stared at the machine in front of her, lost in thought. Her grandmother had hidden so much from her, expecting that Lydia would be the one to put the pieces together on her own. 

She wouldn't say so out loud, but it wasn't fair. 

Being able to find the answers for herself shouldn't have meant that she had to. 

Before Peter attacked her, Lydia lived in a world where everything had a nice dividing line. You were popular, or you weren't. You mattered, or you didn't. There were no werewolves, no banshees, nothing trying to kill her or her friends. If someone wasn't honest, they had something to hide. 

She still believed in that last one. 

She wandered out of the room and returned with a small toolbox, setting it on the floor and removing a screwdriver. She walked toward the device that had been responsible for the deadpool and began dismantling it. She knew that she could have asked everyone else over and let them take it apart, piece by piece. But it had belonged to her grandmother, which made it Lydia's now, as far as she was concerned. 

After working steadily for fifteen minutes, she got frustrated by the lack of noise, of all things. She glanced at the record player, then scoffed and walked over to her purse, retrieving her iPod and finding a playlist she hadn't heard in a while. She was just about to get back to work when she could hear murmuring underneath the music. It definitely wasn't part of the song. 

"Hello?" Every time she tried to have a conversation with a spirit, she felt like her intelligence quotient dropped another twelve points, but she still hoped for the day when someone would answer her. 

"Help." 

Lydia shivered, putting the screwdriver down. The voice was masculine, but not very deep. 

"Help." The voice repeated, sounding more insistent this time. 

"Help how?" Lydia demanded. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the voice. "Who are you?" 

"Christ, there's no time for this. Help Isaac." 

Lydia opened her eyes. "Isaac's in Paris." She was glad that she was alone; the last time she had a conversation with a spirit, or even tried to, Allison had treated her like she was crazy. The thought of her friend made her sad, and she sighed. "Why are you talking to me about this? Doesn't France have banshees?" She was already getting her phone from her purse and sending a text to Scott, deciding that he could relay the message to Chris and Isaac, whose phone numbers she didn't have. Her fingers stilled as she stared down at the phone, and then she was dialing before she could talk herself out of it. "Hi, Jackson."


	2. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a graphic depiction of what could be considered self-harm.

"Hi, Jackson."

"Lydia?" Jackson had known it was her. Her name showed up on the screen when she called, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise. More than once, he had thought about calling her, but she had demanded a clean break from him as soon as she learned he was moving to a different country. He didn't fault her for it, he probably would have suggested the same thing once he had been gone a few months. But he still missed her. "Why - why are you calling me?" He cringed, wishing he had phrased it another way. "I'm glad you did." 

"We can talk about that later. Right now, I need you to do something for me, and you can't say no. I'll explain more later on. Isaac is in trouble. Or he might be. You're the closest one to him, so you have to go check on him. Maybe bring him back with you, I don't know and I don't really care, but it's important." 

Jackson laughed. "You want me to check up on Isaac, who may or may not be in trouble, and then bring him back to my parents' house, knowing they're going to have questions that I can't answer? Do you know how insane that sounds?" 

There was silence for a few agonizing seconds, then Lydia spoke one word. "Yes." 

"Goddammit, Lydia!" Jackson considered throwing his phone at the wall, but decided against it. He knew her, and she would just call back until he gave in and answered. "I haven't heard from you in a year and the first thing you can think of, the only reason you have to call me, is because Lahey's in trouble, maybe?" He clenched his fist, thankfully not the one holding the phone, and breathed in and out slowly, wanting to calm down. "Are you two dating?" 

"No, I'm not dating Isaac, one of the reasons being that he's living in Paris. If I wasn't going to date you long distance, why would I give him that courtesy? He was in love with Allison, anyway." 

"Was?" Jackson sat down on his bed. "Did they break up? Let me guess, she got back together with McCall." 

"She died." Lydia mumbled. 

"Fucking hell." Jackson turned and punched the wall above his headboard. "I need you to tell me everything. Right now." 

"Go to Paris and check on Isaac, and I will." Lydia demanded. "This isn't a joke, Jackson. You have to get moving." 

"Lyd-" Jackson scowled, this time actually throwing his phone when he realized she had hung up on him. 

Four hours later, he was getting off of the train in Paris, cursing his luck and the fact that he had ever gotten involved with Lydia. He had loved her, and her returned affection had saved him from becoming something nearly demonic in nature, but she had always been a force to be reckoned with. Saying no to her, even though they had been apart for more than a year and he was separated from her by an ocean, was impossible. He suspected that if he had tried, she would have found a way to make his life hell until he gave in. 

Jackson walked toward the boarding school that Lydia said Isaac was attending, thanks to Allison's dad. It wasn't hard to spot his former neighbor; Isaac was sitting on the front steps of the building, engrossed in a textbook. Jackson couldn't help snorting at how typical it was. "You're still a nerd. I guess that's never going to change." 

Isaac looked up, grimacing and closing the book in his lap. "And you're still a moron." He stood up. "I never expected to actually see you. Scott and Chris both told me you were coming here and I thought it was a joke, but I had to see for myself." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to see you." Jackson said earnestly. "But Lydia called me and said you might or might not be in trouble, so I'm supposed to come get you and babysit you, I guess." 

"If Lydia thinks I'm going to die, I guess I'd rather do it around someone I know." Isaac looked like he had reached this conclusion well before Jackson's arrival. 

"She didn't say you were going to die, she said you were in danger. She won't explain it to me, but you know how she is." Jackson cleared his throat. He didn't want to think about anyone else being so familiar with his ex-girlfriend. He knew that Isaac had once asked Lydia out. "So. Sorry to hear about Allison. I just found out today." His temper flared again. "Thanks for letting me know." 

"I must have left your phone number in my - oh, that's right, we're not friends." Isaac scowled back at Jackson and shook his head. "Someone should have told you, but that someone is Lydia, so don't blame me." 

"Are you coming with me or not?" Jackson glared at a younger teen, who had stopped to stare at the two of them as they argued. He laughed when the guy ran into the building. "Kids." 

"Yeah, you're so intimidating. Are you actually going to try to keep me safe, or are you going to push me off of the bridge?" Isaac studied Jackson as he waited for an answer, eager to hear what the other werewolf would say to him in response. 

"I don't think the fall would kill you and I hate wasting my time." Jackson cracked a smile. "Come on, so I can tell Lydia I did my good deed for the year." There had been a point in time when the two of them rode the same school bus, and they had once been assigned to the same group project. They might not ever become friends, but Jackson still felt some guilt for the way Stiles' father had berated him about overlooking Isaac's abuse. He felt like this might be his second chance to help Isaac, which was why he hadn't protested very much at Lydia's demand. "I have a round-trip ticket back to London, and I bought you a one-way ticket before I even left there. You're coming back with me, and if you have to, you'll just transfer schools. I think being in danger, if you actually are in danger, isn't the kind of thing that just goes away." 

"I'll get my things. I already packed. I don't have a lot." Isaac turned to go, then turned back around to look at Jackson. "Why are you being so nice to me right now? I mean, nice for you. Before you left, you would have heard I was in danger and probably sold tickets to other people that wanted to watch me get hurt." 

"That's going a little too far." Jackson shook his head. "Listen, I might feel like shit that I never stepped in and told someone that your dad was beating the hell out of you, but you know what? That wasn't necessarily my job. You could have done something for yourself. I might not have liked that you were getting hurt, but if your dad was willing to do that to you, who the hell knows what he would have done to me? Look what he did to Matt, for fuck's sake." 

Isaac chuckled. "Even after all this time, it's still about saving your own ass. The only reason you're even here is because you're afraid of Lydia." 

Jackson snorted. "And you're not? Just get your shit and come on." 

A few minutes later, Isaac came back from his room, carrying a duffel bag and his backpack. He nodded to Jackson. "I got everything." 

Jackson started walking back toward the train station. He held his hand out for the duffel bag, trying to make it easier on Isaac. The gesture ended up saving the werewolf's life mere seconds later, when Jackson's arm intercepted a bullet that had been intended for Isaac's chest. He grunted, clenching his teeth. "Remember how you made a joke about me shoving you off the bridge? Hit the water. Now. Or I'll follow through on that." 

Isaac didn't need to be told twice, leaping over the railing beside him. The water was freezing, even for this time of year, and he felt the air leave his lungs. The feeling didn't last long, but it was a reminder that werewolves weren't the immortal beings that he had once daydreamed they were. He wasn't sure who was shooting at him, but the thought of being murdered by a hunter was enough to propel him through the water. He made sure to stay low, not wanting to get a bullet in his spine. 

Jackson was right behind him, not interested in finding out who was willing to shoot at a seemingly innocent high school student. He had managed to avoid hunters for the past year, only shifting on full moons because he felt like it was necessary, and he never shifted where someone could see him. He was grateful for his time on the swim team. He knew he could hold his breath for four minutes, but he wasn't sure what Isaac's personal best was, in that regard. They needed to keep moving, either way. 

Isaac resurfaced first and started running, not stopping for his duffel bag or backpack, which he had left on the bridge. He only paused for a second, turning to make sure Jackson was following him, but it was enough for the shooter to take aim a second time. The bullet hit the tree beside him, and Isaac's heart pounded as he started running again. He hoped Jackson would forgive him. His plan, created as he moved, was to get to the train station. It was public enough that he doubted his would-be assassin would try again, and he could wait there for Jackson to catch up. 

Jackson did catch up to Isaac, where a crowd of pedestrians was gathered on a corner, waiting for the chance to cross the street. He spoke quietly, gripping Isaac's shoulder, but not in an effort to hurt him. His forearm stung, but it didn't look like a wolfsbane bullet had done the damage. "We're going to my house and I'm packing my suitcase, and then we're getting the fuck out of here. I'm sorry about your stuff, but we're not going back." 

"It's fine, they were just things." Isaac shrugged. "I've missed Scott. It'll be nice to see him." 

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Great, the testicles. He and Stiles are the, uh, wolfsbane of my existence." He shook his head. "We can't go anywhere like this. Come on." He led the way into a store, ignoring the strange looks that he and Isaac were receiving for being drenched. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The clerk murmured, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "I understand you just want some dry clothes, but my manager told me I have to tell you to go." 

Jackson turned toward the woman and gave her a bright smile. "How about if I had over my credit card and go outside, and you get both of us a change of clothes, charge it to my card, and bring me the bag and the receipt? I'll sign it. We don't want to be in here any more than your manager wants us to be in here, but we obviously can't go anywhere like this." 

"I'll do my best." 

Jackson nodded and got a credit card out of his wallet, handing it over and walking outside. 

"You know, she can fuck you over." Isaac muttered. "Why trust her?" 

"Why do you trust me?" Jackson countered. "Because right now, I'm your best chance of getting somewhere safe. Besides, I don't really give a shit about that card. It's not mine, anyway. It belongs to David." He laughed suddenly. "They're worried about having to mop the floor. I've got a bullet in my arm and you're homeless. Fuck them." 

The door to the shop opened a few minutes later, and the woman held out a receipt and a pen, for Jackson to sign for his purchases. He did, thanking her and taking the bag before he motioned for Isaac to follow him into the alley. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it in the dumpster, drying off with one of the towels that the clerk had added to his purchases. 

Isaac held up his own towel, a smug look on his face. "I told you she'd take advantage of you." 

"It's a towel. I'm not going to lose sleep over it. Would you rather dry off with something out of the dumpster?" 

Isaac grimaced. "I think I'll pass on that, actually." 

Jackson yanked the tag off of the new shirt and put it on. "She did us a favor. If she ended up buying herself something nice while she was at it, oh well. It's not like I didn't spend a lot of money on Lydia, as it was. This is nothing." He opened his wallet and pulled the train tickets out, watching in disgust as water dripped from the soaked paper. He crumpled them in his fist. "These are useless." He finished getting dressed and threw his and Isaac's soaked clothes into the same dumpster he had just tossed his shirt into, then shoved both towels back into the plastic bag and carried it out of the alley. "I should have asked her if they have cell phones." 

"I can call Chris from your house. He'll have phones waiting for us when we get back to California." Isaac walked toward the train station. "Will your parents even let you leave?" 

"They're not my parents." Jackson corrected. "My parents died in a car accident." 

"Okay then, sorry. The people that put a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food in your mouth. The ones that don't beat the hell out of you or lock you in a freezer. Those people. Are you going to miss them? Probably not." Isaac gave Jackson an irritated look. "You don't have to help me anymore, I can get there just fine on my own. Thanks for the clothes, I'll send you money when I'm back in Beacon Hills." 

"Yeah, like I'm letting you go without me." Jackson shook his head. "I never wanted to be here, anyway. And just because my legal guardians don't leave bruises doesn't mean - you know what, I don't give a shit. Maybe I'm not going with you, but I'm going." He started walking a little faster, annoyed that Isaac was determined to villainize him, after what they had just dealt with. Getting the phone call from Lydia and having to be alone with his thoughts for the rest of the day had left him frustrated by the fact that an ocean separated them. A year ago, he had told her he loved her, she said it back, and then he had to leave. He hadn't seen her or heard from her since then, and the first thing she could think of to say to him was that he had to be responsible for Isaac, who was acting like a douchebag about everything. Part of the problem he had, while living in Beacon Hills, was that he wanted to belong to certain people and have titles assigned to himself. He was Lydia's boyfriend. Danny's best friend. The captain of the lacrosse team, until Scott McCall had taken that away from him. Even though he actually hadn't, since they became co-captains, Jackson felt like he was being erased. Lydia's brief interest in Scott had only made things worse. Jackson wasn't sure who he was, if he wasn't the best at everything he did. He wanted it all back, and since he only had one more school year before everyone went their separate ways, he knew this was his last opportunity. If the legal guardians that everyone else insisted on calling his parents didn't understand that, it wasn't his problem. 

The rest of the walk to the train station was uneventful, but it didn't stop either of them from looking over their shoulders every few feet, like they expected the shooter to try again. When they got to the ticket counter, Jackson paid for two one-way tickets to London. 

"How's your arm?" Isaac looked at the injury. "We could probably get the bullet out, at your house. I'm kind of surprised that it's not wolfsbane." 

"Why? You want me dead?" Jackson shook his head. "Maybe it was a mistake, or maybe you pissed off one of your classmates and he came after you."

"They barely talk to me now, you know?" Isaac blurted. "I get texts from Scott once in a while, and Chris calls to ask me how I'm doing every couple of weeks, but that's the extent of it. Except for today, I thought Lydia and the others had forgotten that I exist at all. I actually expected Derek to have a little more consideration for us, since he's the one that made us what we are." He sat down on a bench and looked up at Jackson. "Maybe going back is pointless. We'll probably be omegas." 

"I don't give a shit about pack hierarchy." Jackson sat down beside Isaac. The bullet wound was starting to heal, and it worried him. He doubted he could get through airport security with the metal lodged in his arm. "I'm gonna go take care of this." He stood up again and walked through the lobby, pushing open the door to the bathroom. He locked himself in a stall and yanked his shirt off over his head, eyeing the wound for a moment and grimacing in disgust at what he was about to do. He shifted, sinking his fangs into his arm and tugging the bullet free with his teeth. He spit it into the toilet and grabbed a handful of toilet paper, wiping his mouth before the blood could stain his lips or teeth. He did his best to clean up his arm, then rinsed it off in the sink and wrapped the wound in paper towels. He went back to the stall to get his shirt and put it back on. His arm hurt worse than before, but he was trying not to think about it. He knew it would be healed by the time he got back to London, anyway. 

"You smell like a dentist's office." Isaac commented. "Like blood and antiseptic cleaner. What were you doing in there?" 

"I had to pry the bullet out with my teeth." Jackson closed his eyes, the past hour finally catching up with him. 

"Now you sound like Derek." Isaac smiled. 

"Fuck Derek." Jackson murmured. "He's a dick. Just perfect for the pack with the testicles." He laughed quietly. "They all deserve each other." A short time later, he was nearly asleep when the announcement came over the speakers for the train back to London. He stood up slowly, glancing down at his arm. He nodded to Isaac. "I'm fine." 

"I didn't ask." Isaac remarked, even though he was glad to hear it. Despite their differences, Isaac knew Jackson had been trying his best in just a couple of hours to make up for the years of ignoring or outright insulting him. 

"I think I liked you better when you could barely talk to anyone." Jackson mused, moving past him to board the train.

"That's a lie." Isaac followed Jackson. "You forget that I notice these things now." Once they were seated and had their tickets punched, Isaac gave Jackson another considering look. "Why do you hate Scott so much? I can understand why you don't like Stiles. Nobody likes Stiles." 

Jackson stared at Isaac, then shrugged one shoulder. "I don't hate Stiles. I'm surprised you don't remember. We all went to the same middle school, except McCall." 

"My brother and my mom died. I wasn't really looking around me, very much." Isaac explained. "I'm not playing the sad orphan card, it's just how things were." 

Jackson nodded. "Right. Middle school's when we started having classes with Stiles and Lydia. They went to a different elementary. Stiles was my best friend back then, but everything imploded after eighth grade. I started dating Lydia, and Stiles didn't want to talk to me anymore because he got it in his head that I betrayed him. It was bullshit. Scott moved back and Danny started going to school with us, so that was it. I had my friend and he had his." 

"So what you're saying is that you think Scott took Stiles away from you. And you sound like you're talking about a break-up instead of a friendship that ended." Isaac smiled. "I'm joking, sorry. I've had enough bad things happen today, I'm done with it." 

"Stiles wishes he was that lucky." Jackson retorted. "I know he was driving Danny nuts, before I moved away. All of those questions about whether or not gay guys thought he was hot. But yeah, Scott's the one I have the problem with. Not Stiles. Even though I probably should." 

"Does that mean you're... fluid?" Isaac looked intrigued. 

"That means that I know people look at me, regardless of what gender they consider themselves." Jackson corrected. "I'm not against trying new things, but that doesn't mean I have been. Why? Are you trying to drop hints right now?" 

"I like Scott, he doesn't like me back, that's the extent of that. Besides, I was interested in Allison and Scott wasn't happy about it. For Allison, not for me." Isaac clarified. "I don't think it would have gone anywhere, even if she had survived. She did try to kill me, so maybe my priorities are a mess." 

"You know you're going to explain everything to me, right?" Jackson scowled. "I want to know what happened from the moment I left until I showed up to get you." 

Isaac cleared his throat. "Allison and her dad went to Paris. They came back. Lydia's a banshee, Stiles got possessed by an evil fox spirit, Scott became a true alpha, Derek's younger sister showed up and he became a beta, Peter Hale is still an asshole, Scott started dating someone new, Allison died, Chris dropped me off in Paris and paid for my boarding school education." 

"And you're that well-adjusted about all of it? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jackson sat up straight, staring at Isaac. "If I had to relay that kind of information, I'd be a little more tactful. You're a sadistic son of a bitch." 

"No, I just figure it's best to treat it like a bandaid. Or a bullet in your arm, I guess." Isaac smirked. "If I dwell on how shitty I think all of it is, I'm not going to get over it. I don't really feel like living my life in some kind of comatose state, thinking about the things I've been through. They're over." He looked out the window, then back at Jackson. 

"Lydia's a banshee?" Jackson repeated suddenly. "How is she a banshee? What does that mean? Is she okay?" He was imagining the worst, wondering if Lydia had scales or some kind of poisonous venom, like he once had. "Does she have a tail?" 

Isaac snorted, shaking his head. "She doesn't have a tail. She's fine. You'll see. She knows when someone is about to die, or could die. And surprise, someone decided to try to kill me, but you stopped them. Thank you for that, by the way. I'm not that much of an ungrateful prick, it's just hard to remember manners when you're running for your life and trying not to drown." 

"So she figured out that you were about to meet the Grim Reaper and sent me to stop it from happening? That's great, now I've pissed off Death. I really should have asked what I was getting myself into. I wouldn't have..." Jackson shook his head. "Yeah, I would have. And you're welcome. If this ends up costing me my life, I'm haunting you and Lydia for the rest of yours." 

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Back to what I was saying before, I don't like Stiles. That's the difference between you and me, I guess. You prefer one... testicle." He laughed. "I prefer the other one. Without Allison around, I don't know if I even have a place in that pack anymore, since Scott has his best friend and his cute little girlfriend. Maybe if you and I function as betas for Derek, he can become an alpha again, and he can do it right this time. And if not, maybe we can talk to Scott about his favoritism and get him to ease up a little. It was never really that bad, but I did feel like I was always ranked somewhere just under Stiles, in Scott's list of priorities. Maybe that's just because I have issues with male authority figures." 

Jackson smirked, shaking his head. He wasn't done talking to Isaac about the way the other werewolf had dropped a veritable crate of bombs on him in one breath, but it could wait. He had ammunition of his own. "I'm not talking to McCall about anything. I'm not joining his pack, and I'm not going to be anybody's beta. I don't need to." His eyes glowed red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written something I considered graphically violent before, so I don't know how it might come across to people reading this story. I don't necessarily see it as self-harm if a character is doing something to heal themselves, regardless of whether they're human, a werewolf, or something else. If I need to change the tags or alter my warning, I will.


	3. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles struggles to make sense out of everything from the past few hours.

Liam turned a reel over in his hands a few times as he thought about everything he had just been told. Jackson was a werewolf. He had been Lydia's boyfriend, but he went looking for the bite to become a werewolf and it made him turn into something else. Jackson moved away, but now he was coming back with Isaac, someone else that Liam felt like he barely knew. He looked up at Scott from where he was seated, on Lydia's floor. "Okay, just one thing. How is this going to affect the pack?" 

Scott glanced at Stiles, who shrugged in response, before he looked back at Liam. "I don't know." He admitted. "Isaac said that Jackson's an alpha. He tried to call Chris, but he didn't know that Chris is gone. He wasn't very happy about that."

"Yeah, well, Isaac isn't the prince of sunshine." Stiles interjected. "Prince of scarves, maybe. I'm more concerned about Jackson being an alpha. I thought you needed a pack to make that work." 

All of the eyes in the room were suddenly focused on Derek, who laughed and held his hands up in protest. "Sometimes you do. Sometimes, it's just an ability to make people listen to you. From what I remember of Jackson, he didn't have any trouble with that. He was never meant to be part of my pack, that's for sure." 

A look passed between Scott and Derek. Scott nodded, ending whatever silent exchange they were having, and the tension in the room eased a little. The relief didn't last very long. 

"What the hell was that?" Stiles demanded. "What are you not telling me? Or the rest of us, for that matter?" He looked at Kira, faltering for a moment before he looked away. He knew that everyone was an individual, but he had gotten into the habit of categorizing people. Kira, being Scott's girlfriend, had somehow merged with Allison. He should have known better, and he wondered if somewhere, she was laughing at him. They got along really well, becoming friends themselves, and he missed her. Kira could never replace her, but he knew that wasn't what Scott wanted the kitsune around for, anyway. 

"It doesn't matter." Scott said quickly. "I think it's going to be okay." 

"Well, thank you, zen master Scott." Stiles muttered. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms and frowning. 

"Stiles." Scott's tone held a warning, which wasn't typical between the two of them anymore. Not since the nogitsune had been dealt with. Somehow, it reassured both of them, since it meant things were getting back to normal. 

"Outside." Stiles replied calmly, leaving the room. 

Scott gave Kira an apologetic smile and followed his best friend outside and into the Jeep, staying silent as Stiles drove a few miles away. 

"Is this far enough?" Stiles whispered. 

Scott nodded. "Yeah, we should be okay. You don't have to whisper." He smiled. 

Stiles pulled the Jeep over to the side of the road and shut the engine off. "I just want to know if I need to line the whole town in mountain ash or get Jackson one of those shock collars." He sighed, leaning back against his seat. "What secrets are you and Derek keeping?" 

Scott looked worried, trying to figure out how to answer. After everything, he felt like he owed it to Stiles. They had agreed to check in with each other, no matter how annoying it might get or how much they might inadvertently overshare. "Okay, but he's not like that anymore, so don't judge." He warned. 

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. You know that the only person I let have a free pass for being an idiot is me." Stiles remarked. It wasn't even true. Stiles was always the first person to blame himself when things started going wrong, and it was what had started his panic attacks in the first place, thinking he was too much for his dad to handle, or that he had somehow caused his mom's death. But he was also the guy that stole a prison transport van and locked Jackson up in it, not even concerned about what the consequences would be. 

"When Derek bit Jackson, he didn't expect him to survive it. He didn't care." Scott explained carefully. "A lot has changed since then, and maybe now the two of them can be okay, but I think Jackson might be the only _other_ person I know that can hold a grudge like it's his lifeline." 

"Who else do you - oh." Stiles laughed. "Well, I have to be the one to do it, since you won't." He ran his fingers over the steering wheel, turning his head to look at Scott. "Derek really wanted Jackson to die?" 

"So did you, at one point." Scott pointed out. "You were all set to kill him yourself. Sometimes, I'm really glad you're not a werewolf. I don't know how I'd handle it if you and I got into an argument, if that happened. I wouldn't fight back if you attacked me." 

"Scott." Stiles sighed. "Yes, you would. You'd do it because you know I don't always think things over, I just do them. I'd be a lousy werewolf. Worse than Peter. In fact, I'm telling you right now that if I ever do end up getting the bite, you need to just... just end me. Save my dad from having to do it." 

"I'm not going to do that. You can't get me to agree to something like that. I told you before that I'm not killing you, and I don't care if you turn into Godzilla or a killer tomato, you're still you." Scott insisted. "And I won't let your dad kill you, either." 

Stiles laughed again. "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to become a killer tomato." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm saying this, even though it probably doesn't need to be said. I don't like Isaac. I don't think someone with no power, suddenly getting a shitload of power, is a good idea. The first thing he did was threaten to kill Lydia, and I'm still not forgiving him for that. He got more of your attention than I did, while he was here. I know I sound like a jealous weirdo for saying it, but I don't know, maybe I am. But maybe if he hadn't been living with you, if I had been over to your house more often, you would have noticed something different about me sooner and maybe... okay, now I sound like I'm blaming you. I'm not, all right?" He twisted sideways in his seat, wanting to fully face Scott. "It's not easy, feeling like I'm being replaced. And I'm kind of glad right now that Lydia isn't with Aiden anymore. Not for the reason you probably think, and yeah I know, he died and it's sad. That was the nogitsune's fault, too." 

"Have you finally stopped blaming yourself?" Scott interrupted, looking hopeful. With Malia to focus on, Stiles had less time to worry about things that hadn't been his fault in the first place. 

"No." Stiles admitted, frowning. "But I'm trying. It's all progress, right? What I'm saying is, if Lydia was still with Aiden and Jackson came back and saw that, with his newfound alpha powers? I don't know that it would be good for any of us." 

"Let's just stop talking about how grateful we are that people died." Scott looked uneasy. "We were talking about Derek and why he gave Jackson the bite." He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to cause a rift between himself and Stiles. "I know you like him. It's okay that you do." 

"I don't like Jackson!" Stiles protested. 

Scott's eyes widened. "Oh god, you do. I wasn't even talking about him, I was talking about Derek. You like Jackson?" He grinned. "This is going to be a really messed up summer."

"I don't like Derek, either." Stiles continued, ignoring most of what Scott was saying. "I have a girlfriend." 

"I know, and I like Malia. I'm happy for you." Scott smiled. "But you can't just pretend that you don't like guys, too. I know you wouldn't cheat on anyone, but you can think someone is hot. Or pretty. Or whatever else you might say about them. You don't have to lie about it." He watched Stiles' facial expressions change a few times as his best friend processed what he was saying. 

"Okay, there was a point in time when I _may have_ had a crush on Derek." Stiles conceded. "And maybe a few seconds of insanity when I thought Jackson looked less like a douchebag than usual." 

Scott laughed. "You mean hot. You wanted to do him." 

"The thought did cross my mind." Stiles put his hand over his face, mortified. "I've calmed down a lot since I started actually having sex. I don't have to wonder what it's like anymore, so I'm not constantly staring at people and trying to figure out what I could say to them to get their attention. Before Malia, I didn't think anyone would want me, but I kept hoping maybe something would change. Maybe Lydia would actually look at me for once, or - fine, or Derek. Or Jackson. Or Danny, you, half of the school, the other half of the school, the idiotic mechanic that overcharged me, a couple of gas station attendants..." He grinned. "I wasn't picky at all. Well, there was an age limit." He shuddered. "Gerard never piqued my interest." 

"Thank god for that." Scott muttered. "Me, though?" He smiled. 

"I would have had sex with Ms. Blake." Stiles blurted. "Or whatever the hell her name was. Yeah. So don't act like I'm going to start writing sonnets about you." 

"Not even a limerick?" Scott teased. 

Stiles stared back at Scott in disbelief. He sighed, then nodded. "Maybe a few limericks." He laughed and started the Jeep. "Do you think Liam's going to be all right?" 

"I think he will be, but even if it takes a while? It's taking all of us a while. We're like a support group, aren't we?" Scott frowned. "I had to bite him. I felt like I did, anyway. I feel like I cursed him." 

"Do you feel like I cursed you?" Stiles glanced over at Scott, then pulled back onto the road, heading back toward Lydia's lake house. "I'm the one that said 'let's go look for half a corpse, it'll be fun!' and you know I would have gone without you, so you came with me. I left you, you got attacked by Peter, and our lives have been screwed up ever since." 

"If it hadn't been me, it might have been you. Or someone else." Scott rubbed his tattoo, thinking of the events of the past year. "I know it's been bad, but not all of it. You helped me learn control. I had the confidence to be with Allison. Before all of this - if none of this had happened in the first place, if I was just the asthmatic guy sitting on the bench at every lacrosse game, Allison would have started dating someone else. I would have never known her. I still miss her, but we all miss her. She was worth missing. Worth knowing. I don't regret knowing her, and I don't regret anything that led to me getting to know her. Stop beating yourself up over everything." 

Stiles nodded, but he wasn't sure he could just do that, like flipping a switch. He had been blaming himself for things since he was a kid, and somehow, it was comforting that he hadn't stopped. He wasn't sure what he would be like if he let go of all of his guilt and never took on any more of it. "Is Lydia going to pick Jackson and Isaac up? I think one of us should go with her." 

"I already asked Kira to do that." Scott admitted. "They'll be fine. And so will you. But you're not getting out of this conversation." He smiled. "Really, you thought Jackson was hot?" 

"For two seconds. It may have been heat stroke." Stiles protested. 

"Because you thought he was hot." Scott laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when you might try to compete with Lydia for Jackson's attention." 

"And you never will." Stiles muttered. "I have Malia, and things are good. Now, you and Isaac, on the other hand..." 

"There's no me and Isaac." Scott shook his head. "Okay, shut up. We're getting too close to Lydia's." 

Stiles laughed as he parked and got out of the Jeep. "That's a little too convenient. Is there something I should know?" 

"No." Scott shook his head, the trace of humor gone. "I'm not... I don't have your predilection for... that." He glanced toward the house, then looked back at Stiles, trying to keep his words vague because he didn't want to risk Malia hearing and misunderstanding. If she thought Scott might be interested in anyone other than Kira and told her as much, it could cause unnecessary problems and they had enough of those. Joking around with Stiles was just something he did, and he wasn't sure that Kira understood that yet. 

Stiles nodded in understanding. "I feel like we should be doing something to prepare ourselves. This is the first time we've had any actual advance warning about another alpha showing up. You and Satomi seem to be getting along just fine, but somebody should tell her about Jackson." 

"I'll go take care of that. I can bring Derek with me." Scott agreed. He turned toward the front door of the house when it opened. 

"I heard." Derek walked down the steps. "I can follow you." He turned toward Stiles. "And you? I've been fine for the past month. I'm not going to disintegrate. Can you quit looking at me like you think I'm a walking corpse?" 

Scott grinned as he looked away from the two of them, holding back his laughter. Derek still didn't understand half of what he thought he did. 

"That's the look I give Peter." Stiles retorted. "The look I give you is more like you're the most Amish werewolf I've ever seen. Not that I know of any actual Amish werewolves. But they probably exist." 

"I have electricity." Derek scowled. 

"You don't have a tv. Please, please tell me that you've seen Star Wars." Stiles demanded. "Scott hasn't seen it. Liam hasn't seen it. I don't understand this." 

Derek walked over to his SUV, opening the driver's side door. He hesitated, then looked over his shoulder at Stiles and roared like Chewbacca. He smiled and got into the vehicle, pulling his door shut. 

"Okay." Stiles murmured, looking at Scott. He couldn't stop smiling and felt like an idiot. "Maybe I have a little bit of a problem." 

"Later?" Scott smiled as he asked, knowing Stiles was going to need to talk about everything soon. 

"Yeah, later. I'll go see if Deaton can give me any details on alphas that don't have packs." Stiles watched everyone else walk out of the house and separate into their various groups as they left. 

Malia got into the Jeep and fastened her seatbelt, making an irritated noise. She hated feeling restrained. More than once, she had stayed at Lydia's house and had to be reminded by the banshee that it wasn't considered normal to wander around naked. Clothes just made her feel like she was being strangled, which was why she was grateful that Stiles didn't mind so much when she came over and got undressed. "I still don't understand why I need to wear this stupid contraption. If we do get into an accident, you're much more likely to die than I am." 

"That's true, but it's not necessary to tell me that." Stiles glanced over at Malia. He waited until everyone else was gone before he drove away. Any attraction, on any level, that he felt for someone else didn't matter. "What do you want to do this summer? We've got about three months to do whatever we want, before senior year." 

"I have summer school." Malia sighed. "I didn't want to tell you. But I have to take it, or I'll be a junior while the rest of you are seniors, and I don't want you to leave me behind." 

"I already told you that I'm not going to do that." Stiles reached for Malia's hand. "You'll get through this and we'll all be seniors when school starts again, and you know that everyone is going to help you. Maybe even Jackson, but don't hold your breath on that." 

"Is he that terrible at math?" Malia frowned. 

"Is he - no." Stiles smiled faintly as he looked at his girlfriend. "Jackson pretty much only cares about himself. And Lydia. If we ever had to deal with an actual zombie apocalypse, he'd save her and just wait for the rest of the world to die out, then he'd try to find a way to convince her to help him repopulate it." 

"I hope it never comes to that." Malia muttered. "But if he's such a waste of time, why are all of you even bothering? The whole reason why packs exist is so that the stronger animals can protect the weaker ones and use them when they're necessary. Like how you help me with English and Lydia helps me with math, but neither one of you is a very good fighter. If Jackson is as bad as you make him sound, you should just break his legs and leave him for a bigger predator to find." She bit her lip, looking pensive. "Or whatever the human equivalent of that is. Don't be his friend." 

"What we're doing right now is trying to figure out if he's going to be a threat to Scott. When high school started, Jackson hated Scott. He felt kind of like you do, that everybody has their own place, and it's best not to disrupt it. But the difference is that he was human then, so he didn't have any reason to feel that way." Stiles, Scott and Lydia had done their best to explain Jackson to the newer pack members, but he wasn't sure any of them would really understand until they saw him for themselves. "If he decides to challenge Scott for control of the pack, it could mean an actual fight to the death. And Scott won't go that far. Jackson will." 

"But Lydia and Kira went to get him." Malia frowned. "None of this makes any sense. You're all stupid. Sorry. But you are. You kept Peter around, knowing he was unstable, and now you're going to get someone and bring him back here, even though he's probably just as bad." 

"He's not as bad as Peter." Stiles sighed. "Nobody is as bad as Peter. I want you to understand. That's why we didn't tell you that he's your father. Anyway, Jackson and I were friends at one point. My interest in lacrosse came from him. It's..." 

"Complicated." Malia rolled her eyes and turned her attention toward the window. "Complicated just means that all of you are assigning emotional value to things that you don't have to. If someone is a predator, you get away from them. If they're weaker, they're prey and you can eat them. Use them. Sometimes you can - " She looked over at her boyfriend. "If you were an animal, you wouldn't survive. You place your faith in the weaker animals and wait for them to get strong. You should run from the predators, but you don't. I want to keep you safe, but I don't have much patience for you, sometimes. You'll probably die, doing something stupid, and my only real emotional attachment will be for no reason. I don't like being sad." 

Stiles glanced over at Malia and smiled slowly. "I like you, too. We've established that." He parked in the public lot near Deaton's clinic, even though he could have found a closer spot. The constant running he had to do over the past year, even just to deliver messages between Allison and Scott, had convinced him that any little bit of extra exercise he could get would be a good thing. He got out of the Jeep and walked over to the sidewalk, smiling to himself as he waited for Malia. The first few times he had tried opening a door for her, she had protested. not really understanding his reasoning when he stammered out an explanation. After a while, they agreed that it would just work out better for everyone if he let her open her own doors. Mostly, he just didn't want to get growled at by a Hale in the school parking lot again. 

"What exactly is Deaton going to be able to tell us?" Malia walked toward the clinic, slowing her pace until Stiles caught up to her. She held her hand out to him, smiling. 

Stiles squeezed Malia's hand gently. "Hopefully, actual information about how someone can be an alpha without having a pack. If Jackson did have a pack, he wouldn't be so quick to leave them behind. I figured he'd be a beta or an omega." Stiles frowned. "Unless he became Isaac's alpha that fast, but I don't see how. They never got along." 

"Again, I'm going to ask why we're determined to help people that you don't even like." Malia stopped walking. "You don't have to do this." 

"Well, I do. That's the thing." Stiles murmured. "Scott became an alpha without having to kill anyone and take their power away. He's like King Arthur, and I'm trying to be his Merlin. Or... something." Stiles hoped that Malia never saw the Merthur fans on tumblr. He would have a lot of explaining to do, if she did. "Scott isn't capable of being mean without a really, really good reason. I've always admired him for that, even when we were little kids. It doesn't matter that he's stronger than me, I still want to protect him when I can. Finding out if Jackson is going to try to kill Scott is a good step in that direction. Okay?" 

Malia nodded and started walking again. "Who the hell is King Arthur? Does he live around here?" 

"Um, no. He's this guy that was able to pull a sword out of a stone, even though a bunch of other men tried before him, and none of them could do it." Stiles opened the door, holding it for Malia and sighing when she scowled at him. "Okay, listen. It's faster this way. If I go in and you stay out here and wait for the door to close, just so you can open it again, people are going to think I'm rude. I'm getting a little tired of trying to explain this whole thing to everyone we meet. Can you please just come in here?" 

Malia grimaced, but nodded and walked past Stiles. "So some guy just pulled a sword out of a rock, and that made him special?" 

"Yeah, it did." Stiles nodded, smiling. 

Malia gave Stiles a considering look. "I think you could probably do it." She sat down in one of the plastic chairs, relieved that the clinic's waiting room was empty, except for the two of them. 

"What, pull a sword out of a stone?" Stiles sat down beside Malia. "I don't think so." 

"Well, you're special." Malia insisted. "You don't need to pull something out of a rock to prove that to me, but I still think you could." She frowned at him. "Why is your face red?" 

Stiles leaned toward Malia and kissed her, pulling away when he heard Deaton clear his throat. "Hey." He waved a hand awkwardly. "We need to talk to you." 

"So I gathered." Deaton looked amused. "It might be a little difficult to do that when your lips are otherwise occupied, Stiles. Why don't the two of you come on back?" He opened the swinging door for Malia, chuckling when she glared at him for it. "You wouldn't be able to get back here without our assistance. This has nothing to do with chivalry, I can assure you. I'll leave that to the knights of the round table." He turned on the light in the back room. 

"Okay, do you have speakers hidden around here?" Stiles demanded. 

"What did you need?" Deaton smiled, his patience wearing thin. 

"Lydia heard a voice telling her that Isaac was in trouble. She called Jackson and told him to go check up on Isaac, but she also told Scott. Scott told Isaac to be careful." Stiles rested his palms on the table. "Then Jackson showed up to get Isaac and they both got shot at. They're fine, but Isaac left his stuff behind when he and Jackson ran. They're on their way here now. And Jackson's an alpha." 

"I see. You couldn't have led with that?" Deaton frowned. 

"Oh, because you always lead with the important details?" Stiles stood up straight. "I just want to know if Scott's in danger. Because if he is, we all are." 

"I can't really speak for Jackson or his possible actions, but there's something that you've glossed over, and it could be a very important detail. Are you willing to guess what that is?" 

Stiles looked at Malia, who shrugged back at him. He reached up and patted her shoulder, thinking. "Lydia heard someone say that Isaac needed help." He repeated. "She doesn't ever need assistance, and Isaac didn't die." 

Deaton smiled. "You'll need to find out what exactly this voice said to her and if she recognized it. It's possible that the intended target wasn't Isaac, but Jackson. There's no real way of knowing until we get more information." 

Stiles was already calling Lydia and putting her on speakerphone. 

"Hey, Stiles." Kira answered. "Lydia's driving and told me to tell you that you really should know better than to call her right now, since you're the Sheriff's son." 

Stiles grimaced at his phone. "Okay, how about if you tell Lydia that this call is a little more important than that, and I figured you would answer, anyway?" 

"You just did." Kira laughed. "What is it?" 

"You said someone talked to you and told you that Isaac was going to die." Stiles began, but Lydia interrupted him. 

"No, I didn't. I said that someone told me to help Isaac. That's all I got. Help twice, then 'help Isaac.' Wait, no. There was a little more." Lydia paused, trying to remember the exact words. "He said 'Christ, there's no time for this. Help Isaac.' And that was it." 

"What did the voice sound like? Did you recognize it at all?" Deaton prompted. 

"No, I didn't recognize it. It was kind of gravelly. But younger, not older." Lydia sounded frustrated. "I can't give you anything more than that." 

"All right, thank you." Deaton gestured for Stiles to end the call.

"I'll talk to you later. Bye." Stiles hung up. "What are you thinking?"

"Someone close to Isaac died and is still around because they haven't been able to cross over, or they haven't wanted to." Deaton never gave a direct answer to things because he knew Stiles and Scott could get there on their own, given the chance. 

Stiles closed his eyes. "Damn it." 

"What?" Malia frowned. "Stiles, what's wrong?" 

Stiles looked over at Malia. "Matt Daehler is the one that was communicating with Lydia. He was dead before and said there was nothing on the other side. He wouldn't have wanted to go back there. Wherever _there_ is, but I don't have time for a theological discussion." He sent Kira a text. 'Tell Lydia it was Matt.' 

"Matt Daehler? I knew him." Malia smiled. "Oh, but he's dead now, and that's bad. We were in the same class a couple of times, in elementary school." 

"He used Jackson for a killing spree." Stiles frowned. "I don't know if I like any of this." He shook his head. "We need to go. We'll call Scott when we get to my house. Come on." He walked toward the doorway, then turned and looked back at Deaton. "Thank you. I always feel like I should be coming here for something else, but I don't know what, really." He smiled apologetically. 

"It's all right, Stiles." Deaton chuckled as Malia grabbed Stiles' hand and pulled him out of the room. 

Stiles wanted to run, but he knew where the deputies patrolled and when, and he didn't want to have to stop and answer any questions. Instead, he walked as fast as he could, back toward the Jeep. "Next time I want to park far away, kick me." 

"I thought violence was bad." Malia snorted. "Don't worry, I know you weren't serious. Sometimes, I just like to mess with you." 

"That's not comforting at all." Stiles grinned at her, anyway. 

"What do you think all of this means?" Malia got into the Jeep and fastened her seatbelt. 

"I don't know." Stiles admitted as he sat down and buckled his own seatbelt. He backed out of the parking space and drove toward his house. "But we have a lot of research to do in the next few hours, before that plane lands. Matt is another person who didn't like Jackson, except when he found out he could use him to go on a killing spree without getting his own hands dirty. Jackson left almost right after that was over, and that was just last year, right around this time. Matt and Isaac were friends, so maybe Matt's been playing Isaac's guardian angel. Just less of an angel and more of a demonic assface." 

"I don't like this town. Everyone in it is psychotic." Malia muttered. "But I want to help with research, if I can." 

Stiles nodded. "You can. I want you to tell me everything you remember about Matt. It might explain why he's suddenly decided to be helpful to us instead of a dick." 

"From the way it sounds, he's not being helpful to you. He's being helpful to Isaac." Malia pointed out. "Nobody wanted to play kickball with him, and he kind of gave up on asking after awhile, and he'd start bringing comic books to school. He got his name on the board all the time for reading them in class instead of paying attention, so he wouldn't even come out to recess. I got in a fight and got my recess taken away too, and that's when I became friends with him." She got out when Stiles parked in his driveway. "I kind of got addicted to reading things when he was willing to share them with me. I liked Spiderman a lot." She smiled, lost in her memories as she followed Stiles into the house when he unlocked the door and held it open for her, not even thinking to protest the gesture, the way she usually did. "One day, when we weren't even in the same class, he came up to me and asked me if I wanted some of his old comics. I asked if they were Spiderman, but they weren't. Just a bunch of Aquaman comic books. I told him I wasn't interested, and he gave them to some other kid, down the hall." 

Stiles smiled and pulled Malia close, kissing her. "Thank you. I only have one more question. What did the other kid look like?" 

"He had blonde curly hair and he always kept to himself." Malia frowned. "I'm sorry that I don't remember his name." 

"You don't have to. I know exactly who that is." Stiles kissed Malia again. "Okay, I need to stop doing that. I have to call Scott. But afterward, we can pick up right where we left off, if you want to." He got his phone out of his pocket. 

"I always want to." Malia smiled. "I'm going upstairs and taking off my clothes." 

The phone fell out of Stiles' hand. "You're my favorite!" He yelled after her, then picked the phone up and started to call Scott. He changed his mind and hung up, sending a text instead. 'Matt was Lydia's source of information about Isaac. Malia used to be friends with Matt. Still not sure how he managed to talk to Lydia. Come to my house when you're done.' He stared at his phone, then looked up at the stairs and sent another text. 'Knock, don't just walk in.' He smiled and went up to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer to write than I had anticipated. I've been sick the last few days, and I thought I could easily write something, but it would be terrible to read. Trying to create a fic while you have a fever is a bad idea.


	4. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We have other things we need to talk about, anyway. We think we know who had a conversation with you about Isaac." 
> 
> "Who was it?" Lydia pressed her fingers against the skin behind her ear, massaging it when she felt like she was starting to get a headache. 
> 
> Scott tugged Lydia's hand away from her head, putting his own hand there instead and drawing the pain away from her. "Matt Daehler." 
> 
> "Why would Matt talk to me?" She yawned. "Why would he be able to?" 
> 
> "That's what we're still trying to figure out."

Scott wasn't usually restless. He left that behavior to Stiles, who seemed to always have enough energy for the two of them. But his best friend had seemed to be more focused on getting laid than getting answers, and while Scott understood the appeal, he was agitated. 

Stiles sighed as he looked up at Scott from where he was sitting, on his bed. Malia had already gone home, and he missed her. "I don't have anything to tell you about whether or not Jackson is a threat because Deaton kind of skirted around that issue. He said he doesn't have an answer for us, but he wanted to know who Lydia's ghostly informant was. I don't think this has anything to do with you. I think it's about Jackson. Maybe Matt's mad at him for dropping his pencil one time or something, I don't know. Matt had some really intense reactions to things, as it was." He made eye contact with Scott, not needing to say what both of them were thinking. Matt could easily be added to the list that included Jackson and Stiles, for people that held grudges and dispensed far greater retribution than was necessary. "I wouldn't. That's not me." He said weakly. "The nogitsune, maybe." 

Scott sat down in Stiles' computer chair. "I don't know how to say this without hurting you." He murmured. "But maybe it picked you because you made it easier. It fed on all of your guilt and your pain. You talk a lot, but you don't ever really say much of anything." 

Stiles smiled. "The last thing in the world that any of you guys need is to listen to me bitch about the minor details in our lives. We've had things and people trying to kill us for a year and a half now. Not a year, like I always wanna say it's been. And we're not even seniors yet. I just wanna get through that. I want to graduate and know that I can get into a good college. I don't expect to go to a great one. I'm not exactly going to end up in an Ivy League school. Somewhere close to here is fine with me. But I want to get there." 

Scott couldn't help grinning back. "And you will. We all will. I want to believe that Jackson isn't out to kill me. If he is, I know that the rest of you won't let him. I know I can fight him. I won't kill him, though." 

"I already knew that." Stiles nodded. "Let's worry about it later, like when he's on his way back here, in Lydia's car. I think it's, uh, later enough for other conversations, now." 

Scott gave Stiles a questioning look, then smiled when he realized what his friend was trying to tell him. "Right. I figured that was already taken care of, since you were having sex with Malia." 

"I don't know if it is." Stiles got up from his bed and opened his door, peering out into the hall. 

"It's fine, your dad isn't home. I would have mentioned it, if he was." Scott laughed, but he gave Stiles a look of concern. "Stiles, if you don't like her enough to be certain about her, you should probably stop sleeping with her." 

"That's the thing." Stiles sat back down. "I do like her enough, or I would have stopped. I'm kind of pissed that you think I'm the type of person who would sleep with someone and lead them on like that." 

"I don't think that." Scott shook his head. "But I do think that sometimes you get carried away and forget what you're doing, and I don't want to see either of you get hurt." 

"Okay." Stiles conceded. "You're right about that. I don't know, though. I mean, you like watching movies with certain actresses in them, but you're dating Kira. How is what I'm doing any different from what you're doing?" 

"Because you see Derek in person. You'll see Jackson in person soon enough. What would you do if they were interested in you?" Scott smiled. "They'd be dumb not to be interested in you." 

"Thanks." Stiles looked embarrassed. "I think it would depend on what they wanted me for. I'm not breaking up with Malia for someone to have sex with me and walk away, laughing." 

"But you'd break up with her." Scott said quietly. "Which means you're not one hundred percent interested." 

Stiles frowned and looked away, not sure how to respond to that. He did like Malia a lot, but sometimes she frustrated him and his thoughts drifted to Lydia, who didn't need an explanation for why everything was the way it was. Lydia was usually the one doing the explaining. He didn't think he was being too harsh, but maybe he was. On the other hand, Lydia never had to be told why it was a bad idea to pick up someone else's discarded ice cream cone from the sidewalk and try to eat it. "I'll tell her, but maybe I should just wait it out." He suggested. "At least until she's done with summer school." 

"No, Stiles." Scott picked up his cell phone and called Lydia, pushing Stiles' shoulder to knock him back onto his bed when he tried to get the phone. "I'm not calling Malia. Stay here." 

"Hi, Scott. Kira's not with me. I already dropped her off at home. Jackson and Isaac are staying at a hotel for the night." Lydia said quickly. "I don't know where everyone else is." 

"Lydia." Scott laughed. "I didn't ask for a roll call. I have a question for you." 

Stiles scowled at his best friend, but he wanted to see where this was going. 

"Okay." Lydia agreed. "Go ahead." 

"If you were dating someone and you weren't sure you liked them, or if you thought you might like someone else, would you break up with the person you were dating?" Scott grinned at Stiles. 

Lydia's tone was cautious when she spoke again. "Who are you interested in, Scott?" 

"It's not me!" Scott blurted, horrified. "It's Stiles." 

"Asshole." Stiles muttered, punching Scott's shoulder. "Hi, Lydia." 

Lydia laughed. "Hi, Stiles. If you don't want to date Malia, don't date her." 

"I do want to date her." Stiles protested. "I just keep looking at... certain other people and wondering if there's any mutual interest there." 

"But you don't know for certain? Nobody's come up to you and asked you out or told you they like you, in those exact words?" 

Stiles grabbed the phone from Scott and sat further back on his bed, looking down at the picture of Lydia on his friend's phone. It wasn't the same as a face to face conversation, but it was good enough, for the moment. "I think that as long as I'm dating her, they probably won't. All of them are nice enough that they're not going to try to mess up my relationship." 

"Hmm. Hold on." Lydia hung up. There was a knock on the front door a few seconds later. 

Stiles ran downstairs and opened the door. "Hi." 

"Hi. Again." Lydia smiled. "Who, specifically, are you talking about? Don't say it's me." 

"It's not you." Stiles said earnestly. "I don't feel like that about you anymore. Sometimes you're... sometimes I still see you as the yardstick to measure everyone else by, but I've given up on you." 

Lydia gave Stiles a skeptical look as she walked into the house and turned toward him when he shut the door behind her. She heard Scott's footsteps on the stairs, but didn't bother looking over her shoulder at the werewolf. "Does this have anything to do with Derek's ridiculous attempt at a wookiee yell, this morning?" 

Stiles' face lit up. "You know Star Wars?" 

"Stiles, please. Only an idiot wouldn't know Star Wars." Lydia giggled. She already knew that one of the biggest arguments between the two best friends in the room with her was that Scott still hadn't seen either trilogy. 

"I take back everything I just said. Marry me." Stiles teased. "I'll agree with whatever you want, for the wedding." 

"Even if I want a different groom?" Lydia knew it was probably a bad idea to encourage Stiles, even slightly, but she wasn't trying to flirt with him. She was a little jealous of the friendship he had with Scott. Allison was the closest she had ever come to that. She wanted to be able to joke around and say crude things and not have either of the guys bat an eyelash about it. 

"You're mean. Good thing I didn't buy you a ring." Stiles remarked. 

"You did, though." Lydia looked over at Scott, smiling. "Last year, on my birthday, he gave me this enormous box that he'd gift-wrapped. It had a ring box in it, under a ridiculous amount of packing peanuts." 

"I helped him wrap it." Scott admitted, laughing. "You didn't have to come over. This isn't that big of a deal." 

"Yes, it is." Lydia insisted. "Stiles got involved with Malia at a point in his life when everything around him was chaotic. Now that things have calmed down, he's looking elsewhere." She frowned at Stiles. "You need to break up with Malia and take some time for yourself. Being single is not the death sentence you seem to think it is." 

"I don't think being single is a death sentence." Stiles shook his head. 

Lydia smiled impatiently. "Sophomore year, that wasn't you asking Danny if gay guys were interested in you? You didn't start off junior year yelling in the locker room about needing to lose your virginity?" 

"Seriously, do I have a filling with surveillance equipment in it?" Stiles stared at Lydia in disbelief. "First Deaton, now you. I need to move." 

Lydia pressed her lips together and shook her head. "People talk, Stiles. And despite the fact that you think you're invisible, they talk about you a lot. Because there's a lot that people have to say about you. You're always doing something. Right now, that something involves being an idiot and making things harder on yourself. If you wait any longer to break up with Malia, she'll be even more invested in this relationship than she already is, and that's going to be worse." 

"I told her I'd never leave her behind." Stiles protested. 

"And you won't." Scott said quickly. "Because you're her friend. She's in the pack. You'll see her every day, and you'll be there for her. But not as her boyfriend." 

Stiles sat down on the stairs and looked up at his friends. "I've never seen myself as the kind of guy that can just... break up with someone." 

"Then you're not being realistic. Did you really think, when you started seeing Malia, that the two of you would grow old together and have a house full of kids? Just like that?" Lydia shook her head. "Sweetheart, you do understand that's incredibly unlikely, don't you? I loved Jackson and he loved me back, and it didn't work out because his parents got worried about him and moved to a different continent. Scott and Allison..." She paused, not wanting to continue that line of thinking. "It'll hurt for a while because that's what happens in a break-up, no matter what side of it you're on. But you need to figure yourself out on your own and what you really want out of your own life before you can add someone else into it." 

"Can't I do both?" Stiles laughed dryly. "Fine, I'll end things with Malia. I know it's the right thing to do. The right thing just sucks." He muttered. "You guys can't let her give up on summer school, all right? She probably won't want to talk to me, but I swore we'd all help her." 

"We will." Scott assured his best friend. "And we'll help you until you're ready to date someone else. That's what the pack is for, isn't it?" 

Stiles nodded and smiled at Scott. "Yeah, I know it is." He didn't want to get into another debate about the fact that he was human, not a werewolf, and didn't really feel any sort of bond with anyone other than Scott. 

"We have other things we need to talk about, anyway." Scott said gently, turning toward Lydia. "We think we know who had a conversation with you about Isaac." 

"Who was it?" Lydia pressed her fingers against the skin behind her ear, massaging it when she felt like she was starting to get a headache. 

Scott tugged Lydia's hand away from her head, putting his own hand there instead and drawing the pain away from her. "Matt Daehler." 

Lydia closed her eyes, relieved at the absence of tension and overwhelmed by the new information. "Why would Matt talk to me?" She yawned. "Why would he be able to?" 

"That's what we're still trying to figure out." Stiles admitted. "But I think I understand why he's still here. He said that there was no afterlife. No white light at the end of a tunnel. If that's true, then maybe he decided to stay away from it. It probably doesn't help that after everything, he drowned." 

"Tell them they're right." 

Lydia's eyes opened. "What?" 

Scott and Stiles exchanged looks. 

"I said Matt didn't see a white - " Stiles repeated. 

"No, after that. One of you said 'tell them they're right.'" Lydia frowned. "Didn't you?" 

"No, that was me." Matt spoke from where he was standing behind Lydia. "Tell them they're right about me. There was no way I was going back there. Not after that old man killed me." 

"What old man?" Lydia demanded. 

"Lydia, who the hell are you talking to?" Stiles stood up and moved toward her. 

"Shh, Stiles." Scott held a hand up and shook his head, listening intently like he could hear the other side of the conversation Lydia was having, if he just focused enough. 

"I don't know, he just held me under until I couldn't breathe anymore, then he took Jackson." Matt explained. "I don't know why I'm connected to you. If I had a choice, I wouldn't be. You were always a cold bitch to me." 

"And that had nothing to do with the fact that you were stalking my best friend." Lydia muttered. "Now be quiet. Let me tell them." She glanced over her right shoulder and grimaced, taking a few steps forward to get away from Matt. "Gerard killed Matt. Matt says you guys are right about his motivation for still being here, but that he doesn't know why I'm the one that heard him ask for help, instead of some other banshee." 

"I also said you're a cold bitch." Matt reminded her. 

"I'm not telling them that!" Lydia snapped. "Besides, you're wrong. You don't even know me." 

"Maybe it's just because of Isaac's connection to us." Scott suggested. "Maybe there isn't some other reason. There doesn't have to be one. We saved Isaac, thanks to him." 

"Or nearly got Jackson killed because we didn't know enough about what we were dealing with." Lydia countered. 

"Yeah, you're welcome." Matt muttered. 

"Oh, fine. He says you're welcome, but he was being sarcastic." Lydia rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I couldn't be able to fly or teleport, I had to get stuck with the ability to know when someone is dead or dying. Doctors do that every day." 

Stiles started laughing, cringing when Lydia hit him with her purse. "Ow! Damn it. I can't help it that I see the humor in this. Somebody has to." He stood up straight. "If you want to get rid of him, I'll help you find a way. It'll be a good distraction from the fact that I'm about to be single again, I guess." 

"He has a girlfriend?" Matt sounded skeptical. 

"Yes, you asshole." Lydia grimaced. "Not you, Stiles. Okay, I've had enough of this tonight. I'm going home." She turned toward the door, then faltered and looked back at the guys. "I just realized that if there's something keeping Matt around me, I've got no real privacy until he's gone." 

Stiles scratched his nose and looked embarrassed. "Without doing any actual research, I might have an idea of the cause." 

"I'll listen to anything at this point." Lydia sighed. 

"I'll go make coffee." Scott smiled at them and left the room. 

"On tv shows and movies, it's always some kind of tangible object." Stiles rubbed his eyes. "Malia told me earlier that Matt had these comic books that he shared with Isaac. If Isaac still has them, then Matt could have been tied to Isaac through those. It doesn't explain you, though." 

"It might." Lydia unzipped her purse and got her car keys out. "Isaac made Allison a bracelet out of one of those comic books, and it fell apart one day. Allison used part of the bracelet to make a keychain for me as an early Christmas present." She stared down at the woven papers in her hand. "I want to give this to you, just so I know I can get some sleep tonight and take a shower without feeling weird about it, but... Allison gave it to me. I feel like it's all I have left of her." 

"You have your memories." Stiles murmured. 

"You, of all people, know how useless those can be." Lydia looked horrified and put her hand over her mouth. "Stiles, I'm sorry." 

Stiles went upstairs to his room and slammed his door shut, ignoring her. 

"What was that thing you were saying about me being a cold bitch?" Lydia muttered, turning toward Matt. She went into the kitchen. "Well, Stiles hates me right now." 

"I heard what you said to him." Scott nodded. "But you're wrong. Stiles could never hate you." 

"Okay, let's just call it what it was, then. A figure of speech." Lydia couldn't deny that she felt relieved by Scott's correction, even though she detested being wrong. 

"Give me the keychain." Scott held his hand out. "I'll drive you home, if you want." 

"Don't." Matt shook his head, moving to stand beside Scott. He frowned at Lydia. "I'm not going to peek in on you. I think I've established that I don't really care about you, anyway. But I need to talk to you." 

Lydia looked from Scott to Matt. "I don't know. I don't think you were the most honest person while you were alive. I'm pretty sure death doesn't change a person that fundamentally." 

"Lydia?" Scott gave the redhead a worried look. "What's wrong? Is Matt still talking to you?" 

"Yes." Lydia exhaled in frustration. "He says he doesn't want me to give you the keychain because he has a lot more to say." She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, looking up at Scott. "I haven't really slept in the last couple of days." She gave the werewolf a pleading look. "I'm glad we saved Isaac's life, but even without being a banshee, I can tell you that this is just the start of a very long, very frustrating summer. So much for being able to relax." 

Stiles walked into the kitchen and glanced at Lydia on his way to the sink. He ran water into a pan and set it on the stove, turning the burner on underneath it. "I'm making you tea. You're staying here. I never liked Matt." He smiled slowly. "Where is he, anyway?" 

Lydia gestured toward Matt, curious to see what Stiles would say or do to the restless spirit of their former classmate. 

Stiles looked in the direction Lydia had indicated. "I don't like you and I'm kind of tempted to go get the rock salt out of the garage right now and use you for target practice. I don't even know if that works, but finding out wouldn't bother me." 

"You guys really don't believe in second chances, do you?" Matt asked Lydia. "I came to you to get help for Isaac. I want to make up for what I did." 

Lydia wondered if Stiles' sarcastic nature was contagious as she looked up at Matt, giving him a tired smile. "Does this mean that you admit you're an asshole?" 

Stiles laughed as he looked up at Scott, gauging his best friend's reaction. Even though they were going to be seniors soon, Stiles was convinced that he had stopping points in his brain, when it came to Lydia and Scott. He would forever be four years old and impatient when he was around Scott, dancing around his best friend like he had an eternal need to pee. With Lydia, he was trapped at age eight, his desk facing hers and a need to tell her everything, no matter how many times someone else around them told him to shut up. Even on the days when Stiles yelled after Lydia about the way she was ignoring him, he knew she was listening as intently as she was now. 

Scott smiled back at Stiles, watching in amusement as emotions flickered so easily across his face. One day, he hoped Stiles would realize that he was amazing on his own, and he didn't need Malia or Lydia or any other -ia in his life to make him worth knowing. 

"I guess I can admit I'm an asshole." Matt looked down at Lydia, surprised when her smile became more genuine. 

Lydia threw her keys to Scott. She looked over at Stiles. "Do you have bubble bath?" 

"My dad and I live here." Stiles protested. "We're grown men." 

"I'm not hearing no." Lydia teased. 

"He keeps it in his room, behind his lotion and tissues." Scott laughed and moved out of the way when Stiles threw a spoon at him.


End file.
